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“My princess,” he whispered and moved his hand between us. “So smart,” he groaned and pushed inside of me.
“That’s me, super smart,” I teased on a moan.
“I love you, Atlee.”
His whispered confession was accompanied by a deep thrust that stole my breath.
“Now wrap me up tight, princess. I’m gonna take you hard.”
I wrapped my legs around his back and locked my ankles before my hands slid up his arms and over his shoulders.
When he gave me his weight and shoved his face into my neck I turned to whisper, “Love you, too, honey.”
I felt his teeth at my neck.
There was nothing I could do but lie there and glory in Wilson’s possession.
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later, Smutties Bookstore
I heard Wilson laugh at something Asher said.
My grandmother’s eyes sliced to me. Then she slowly smiled.
“You’ve done well, child.”
I had.
I couldn’t say in the last few weeks Wilson had had a total personality transplant—not that I wanted him to change—but I had heard him laugh quite a bit. He was the same Wilson, just not as uptight. He smiled more, joked with his friends, and didn’t shy away from discussing his past.
I’d learned a great deal about Barbara and her parents. The situation was tragic at best, but honestly it was terrifying to think that someone would go to such lengths to hide mental illness. I hated that more than anything. Wilson had told me about the letter she’d written him. He’d also told me after all these years of keeping it he’d burned it. Then he’d admitted he had a photo album. He’d told me this like it was a horrible secret.
He hadn’t been with me when I’d gone through the pictures, but he had given me permission to look through it. He wanted to throw it away. That wasn’t happening and one day, when he was ready, I wanted him to look through the pictures with me. Barbara was a gorgeous blonde who barely came to his shoulders. She was the opposite of me as far as looks. Flawless pale skin, blue eyes that were much lighter than Wilson’s. They made a beautiful couple. He shared fifteen years with her, and I wasn’t going to allow him to hide her away.
But that was a mountain to conquer for another day.
One step at a time.
“Did you get caught up?” Letty asked with a sleeping baby Maverick in her arms. “Or were you too busy doing the…” Her gaze fell to my grandmother sitting next to me. “Um… dishes.”
“Letty Kent,” my grandmother started. “Do you think I’m under the notion that my granddaughter isn’t having sexual relations with that hunk of a man?”
I loved and adored my grandmother. Living close to her meant I got to spend much-needed time with her. It also meant I was close enough for her to impart her wisdom in person. It was fabulous; I was enjoying every minute I could with her.
But I was not discussing my sex life with her.
Ever.
“Gram,” I groaned. “Please don’t.”
“What is it exactly you don’t want me to do? You know your grandfather and I had relations frequently. He had a very healthy sex drive.”
I was pretty sure I could’ve lived out the rest of my life not knowing that and been better off.
“If I cover my ears and sing lalalala will anyone think less of me?” I asked the women sitting around me waiting for the book club to start.
Sloane, Mia, Jane, and Sadie were all giving me big eyes. I took that as a no, they felt my pain. Brooklyn was smiling telling me she was enjoying my grandmother torturing me. Letty was now silent. Which was suspect—the woman always had something snarky to interject.
